n, and doubtless the man had evolved
none. Hoxer was glad that he was due and overdue to be gone from the
locality. He felt that he could scarcely breathe freely again till he
had joined the gang of Irish ditchers now establishing themselves in a
new camp in the adjoining county, where the high stage of the river gave
him employment in fighting water. He made up his mind, however, that
he would not take the train thither. He dreaded to be among men, to
encounter question and speculation, till he had time to regain control
of his nerves, his facial expression, the tones of his voice. He
resolved that he would quietly drift down the river in a row-boat that
had been at his disposal during his employment here, and join his force
already settled at their destination, without running the gauntlet
of inspection by the neighborhood in a more formal departure. He had
already bidden farewell to those few denizens of the Bend with whom his
associations had been most genial. "And I'll clear out now, as I would
have done if nothing had happened."

He said no more of his intention of departure, but when night had come
he fastened the door of the little shanty, in which were still some of
the rude belongings of his camping outfit, with the grim determination
that it should not soon be opened again. How long the padlock should
beat the summons of the wind on the resounding battens he did not dream!

It was close on midnight when he climbed the steep interior slope of the
levee and stood for a moment gazing cautiously about him. The rowboat
lay close by, for one might embark from the summit of the levee. It was
a cloudy night, without a star. A mist clung to the face of the waters
on the Arkansas side, but on the hither shore the atmosphere was clear,
for he could see at a considerable distance up the river the fire of
a "levee-watch," the stage of the water being so menacing that a guard
must needs be on duty throughout the night. The leaping flames of the
fire cast long lines of red and yellow and a sort of luminous brown
far into the river, where the reflection seemed to palpitate in the
pulsations of the current. No other sign of life was in the night scene,
save in the opposite direction, amidst the white vapors, the gem-like
gleam of a steamer's chimney-lights, all ruby and emerald, as a packet
was slowly rounding the neighboring point. Hoxer could hear the impact
of her paddles on the water, the night being so still. He had seat